


Brotherly Love

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Family, Post-Sirius in Azkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can you love and hate someone all at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brotherly Love

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

"Say that again." I order. I cannot believe what my son is telling me. Could it be a coincidence?

"The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year was a werewolf." He's puzzled by my reaction. Shouldn't I be angry or outraged? How dare that old fool risk a school full of children including my son to the rage of a dark beast?

"What was his name again?" I should feel all those things and more. Maybe I will once the shock wears off.

"Lupin, R.J. Lupin." Draco is all but whining. I could care less at the moment. There can't be two of them I think as I search through the bottom drawer of my desk.

"Is this him?" I demand thrusting the photo at my son. It's the last picture I have of him.

"Yes." My son is very confused now. "Father, why do you have a picture of him? Who is he really?"

"Never mind that now." I tell him. "Do you have any idea where he went when he left the school?"

"No." Draco is staring at me like he's never seen me before. Perhaps he hasn't. "I don't think he has a lot of money. His clothes are awfully shabby." He volunteers hesitantly.

I nod and wave him away. He shouldn't be too hard to track this time. At least I have a name and a place to start. Money opens a lot of doors. If I stop and think about it, I might ask myself why I'm doing this. I don't bother, there is absolutely no good reason for this, but I'm going to do it all the same.

It only takes a few days for me to get an address. A dreary tiny flat in a dingy grey neighborhood that is more then halfway towards being a slum. I think about the house he grew up in, with its large airy rooms, tasteful furnishing, and extensive gardens. How can he bear to live like this?

I don't know what he will do when he sees me. Slam the door in my face most likely. I still don't know why I'm doing this, I just know it's something I have to do.

My reception is a great deal more cordial then I thought would be possible. He stands in the doorway gaping at me for a moment and then goes cool and formal. He might be tired and poor and his robes threadbare and worn but he has the dignity of a king.

"Lucius." His voice is as cool as the expression on his face. "Is there something I can do for you?" He's got the tone just right, polite, indifferent and just a touch impatient. It's no less then I deserve but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

"May I come in? I need to speak with you." I tell him trying not to sound too eager. He frowns, but steps aside and waves me in. The room is even more depressing then I thought possible. He deserves better then this.

"Has something happened?" Is there just a touch of concern in his voice? "Is Crescentia ill?" Of course, he thinks I must be here to give him bad news. What other reason is there for me being here?

"Mother's fine." I tell him. "She misses you." That was a mistake. He gets even colder.

"I doubt that." He regards me for a long moment. "Say what you came to say and then get the hell out of here Lucius."

"Why do you never call me by my real name?" I ask him quietly.

"Why should I? No one else does." This isn't going well at all. "Don't tell me you came all the way down here so someone would call you 'Romulus'?"

"You're my brother." I tell him fighting to stay calm.

"I haven't been your brother since Marcus made us change our names before we went to school."

"He was trying to protect you!" I've never had the best temper and he's deliberately goading me.

"He was trying to protect the Malfoy name!" He is yelling. It's the first time I've seen him lose his temper since he was 17. "He didn't want anyone to know his son was a werewolf."

"Is that why you ran away from home?" I ask him.

"That wasn't home." He drops into the rickety chair. All the fight has gone out of him. I kneel on the floor in front of him so I can look up into his eyes. I remember when they were the same grey as mine. The odd gold color was the only obvious change after he was attacked. We never looked much like twins but our eyes had matched.

"You are my twin brother. You are Remus Julius Malfoy." I say as gently as I can. "I love you and I want to take care of you."

"No." He whispers softly. "Romulus, it just won't work."

"Why not?" I ask him. "I've got that great big house. You could have your own wing if you like. We can set something up for the full moon."

"I can't live like that. I won't go back to being a prisoner."

"You won't be a prisoner." I tell him. "You won't even be a dependent. It's half yours anyhow."

"What happens when we end on different sides of the war?" He looks at me. "Don't say you won't support Voldemort if he returns, we both know you will."

"We don't have to be on different sides." I know I've lost but I can't help but hope that maybe if I keep trying that he'll come around.

"I won't fight for Voldemort and you won't fight against him." He points out. "It's just not possible."

I get up and go over to the door. He's right of course. This whole excursion was a waste of time. I should walk out and leave him sitting there in this squalid little room.

I remember the little boy that crawled into my bed when he had a nightmare. I remember the child that listened to my every word when I told him about my adventure with my friends at school while he was stuck home alone with his tutor. I remember him weeping and begging my parents not to lock him in the cellar the evening of the full moon. I remember the way he cried on my shoulder time and again after our parents dragged him off to some quack or another that promised a cure and delivered only pain. I remember the look on his face when he was told he would be allowed to go to Hogwarts with me. I remember him promising father he would never tell anyone who he really was. I remember how he would sneak out of his dorm in the middle of the night to visit with me. I remember the way he looked when Sirius Black kissed him in the Great Hall in front of the whole school. I remember the pitiful little note I received after graduation saying that he wasn't coming home. I remember him at father's funeral, remote and unhappy.

I take the key out of my pocket and lay it on the table near the door.

"Father set up a trust for you before he died. It's administered by Gringotts. It will provide an income for you to live comfortably on. The key will give you access to the money." I tell him. He doesn't even look up.

"I do love you Romulus Lucius Malfoy." He says as I start to open the door. "I just can't be what you want me to be." I should say something. I know what I need to tell him.

"It was my fault." I say finally. He looks up at me confused. "I was the one that opened the gate. That thing could have never gotten in to attack you if I hadn't done that."

"We were only four years old." His tone is comforting. "It wasn't your fault."

Maybe he believes that. I wish I could.


End file.
